by Sarah Kelly
“Hey,” she said when she’d stepped outside and closed the front door behind her. It was uncharacteristically chilly that afternoon, an ominous gray creeping across the sky in stormclouds, and she felt the chill on her bare arms. She was wearing her favorite sleeveless shirt dress, in a gorgeous rich forest green – the exact color she’d pictured in her mind as she’d conjured it – with a matching colored gem in a huge rectangle perched on top of a gold ring band. It really was a statement ring, and she got comments about it from everyone who saw it.
“Walk around the corner,” Luis’ voice came through the phone.
India looked toward the gothic mansion with the police tape still stretched taut around it, loose ends fluttering in the wind. “Toward Jim Quinn’s house?”
“No, the other way. Round to your left, into the clump of trees.”
India began to walk there, wondering what he had in store for her this time. Every single visit blew her mind in some new way. It was like reality expanded each time Luis rocked up, and reality sure was a lot bigger than India had ever imagined.
“Pssst,” a whisper came from among the trees.
“Luis?”
He popped out from behind a trunk, smirking, but not unkindly. He looked nonchalant, as if magic and traveling instantly between dimensions and places was a piece of cake. “Hey, girl.”
“Hey, Uncle Luis.”
“Yeesh, don’t call me that.” He leant against the tree, showcasing his new outfit, an avant-garde, almost androgynous look, with black skinny jeans and a white floating shirt that almost looked like a blouse. His hair was shaved to a buzz cut on one side, and fell down on his cheek in deep brown curls on the other. “You make me sound like some old dude. When I hit 100 you can call me uncle, then 200 it’ll be grandpa, how does that sound?”
India laughed. “But won’t I have aged with you? Anyway, no one ever lives to those ages. The most you’re getting is like 125, and only one or two people manage it.”
“You’re still wet behind the ears, mami,” he laughed. “In the witch world, things run differently.”
When India heard new things about witches, sometimes she could so scarcely believe it was real, her mind pushed right back against it. Luis is just some random madman, an errant thought told her. But how could that ever explain the fact he could switch through dimensions and places at will, and conjure a coffee or cucumber salad or a choir of gospel singers with the click of a finger?
“Hey,” he said, his eyes shining with mischief as he grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
Before India knew what was happening, she’d been transported.
She was standing – something she’d only recently learned how to do, since the force of the teleportation was so strong it could knock a novice witch off her feet with ease – in an old fashioned looking house. The curtains were almost completely drawn, with just a sliver of artificial orange light beaming in from outside and lifting the room out of near blackness into some dark gray, shadowy haze. Luis sat on an old Louis chair, appropriately, and the rest of the hallway was stuffed with antiques in every available space, leaving a considerably narrowed way for people to pass through.
“Where are we?” she whispered.
“Look outside,” he returned in a loud stage whisper that let her know he was mocking her. It was all in good fun, though, of course, it being Luis. “But just a tiny peep.”
She padded to the curtain in the slippers Nadine had lent her. They’d all been having quite a cozy day until Luis came and sent her world into a spin. India pushed the curtain open an inch, to see a home that looked familiar across the street, much smaller, but well appointed and fresh. “Joey’s house! So this must be the Quinn’s.” She gasped. “Luis, we’re not allowed in here. What if we leave traces of DNA and they think I killed him?”
“Tee hee,” Luis said like a schoolboy up to no good. “You don’t think I can take that right out if I want?” He jumped to his feet. “Now, let’s get going.” He walked down the hall to its end, where one door stood. Two doors flanked it on either side of the corridor. India followed. “This time, I know exactly what skill to teach you. I feel like I’m on fire! Let’s do this!”
India grinned at his enthusiasm. “Come on, then. Hurry up about it.”
“All right, Miss Attitude. Now, when I say so, you’re going to fling open that door on our left, right? Left-right? That’s just going to mess up my brain. Anyhow, the door on the left. Then you’re going to get into that deep state where you just sink into the energy. You been practicing that?”
“Yep,” India said, truthfully. She always enjoyed doing that, especially in nature. There was such a peace about it, like even if the most awful thing was going on, she knew deep within that everything was going to be all right in the end. Tapping into the energy was a break from fear and worry and doubt, a particularly useful skill being in the middle of a murder investigation.
“Good,” Luis said. “So you’ll sink in, then look around the room and see what you feel. Then you’ll do it in all the other rooms.”
“Why?”
“Wait and see,” he snapped. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”
“Sorry,” India said. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You will be very sorry,” he said, grinning again. “Very sorry indeed. Mwahahahaha.”
India rolled her eyes. “Oh, jeez.”
“Open the door.”
So she did. She began to let all her thoughts float away, as was necessary to commune with the energy. Thoughts of Xavier rippled into the atmosphere, thoughts of the murder, and who could have committed it. Strangely, she also had to let go of thoughts of mint choc chip ice cream, President Obama, and new curtain designs for her tiny Key West home, and somewhat less randomly, cupcake frosting flavors, how long it took to fix Nadine’s thousands of miniscule braids, and what Mark’s feud with Jim Quinn had been. Soon her mind was near all the way blank, with just an errant thought dashing into her brain, that she found easy to wave away. At first it had been so frustrating, trying to not think, as her thoughts sat stubbornly in her head, refusing to be evicted. But over time it had become easier to meet the challenge.
“That’ll do,” Luis said. “Now look around. What vibes are you getting? Any colors? Any sensations?”
India looked around the office. It was elegantly decorated, for sure, but there was a charged energy about the place that made her uncomfortable. It wasn’t strong enough to be overwhelming, but it lingered around like a bad smell. Next she focused her mind on colors. After a couple of moments, she got a sense of a bright, blistering red, with a dark, intense green creeping up from the shadows behind the desk. A sludgy pink hung thickly in the air.
“Yes,” Luis said, his eyes bright, when she reported to him what she’d sensed. “Exactly. Now shut the door and onto the next.” He pointed to the door that ended the corridor.
India repeated the exercise. This door opened onto a rather feminine looking sitting room, and in sunny daylight it would have looked bright and fresh. Cream and yellow upholstery sat among white wooden French-looking furniture. An ornate mirror hung on a far wall, and it made India jump when she caught sight of her and Luis’ reflection. Luis tittered and she gave him a soft thump on the arm.
“This definitely feels different,” she said, once she’d tuned in to the energy.
“100% percent.”
“I see pale pink wisps, yellow and light green mixing into each other… what does that look like? Ooh, maybe like watercolors, you know when they wash over and one color gradually fades into the other?”
Luis nodded. “Exactly right.”
“It’s so relaxing,” India said. It felt like listening to a calm, lilting piece of classical music, perhaps played on the piano.
But there was no time to revel in it. “Next room,” Luis said.
India shut the door behind her, feeling pleased. She was really beginning to get the hang of it, it seemed. When she touche
d the next door, the handle felt hot and she snatched her hand away. “What the…?” she said, looking a Luis with a quizzical expression.
“Go on.”
India touched the handle with a tentative reach, then in one swift movement, turned it and pushed the door open. Instantly, a rush of energy smacked into her face like storm winds: dark red, the color of old blood, a blue so murky it was almost black, and a gray like a million stormclouds ready to rage. India pushed through the dense energy, reached for the handle, and slammed the door shut, breathing hard.
“Isn’t that something?” Luis said, with a small smile.
India couldn’t even reply. She felt winded. Fearful. Her heart banged away in her chest as she took deep breaths to try and calm herself.
Luis slapped her on the back. “You’ll be fine, mami. Just a surge. Nothing major.”
“Easy for you to say,” India muttered, straightening up. But his words did calm her. Soon she was composed enough to look in his face, awaiting the next instruction. He flashed her a wicked grin and she couldn’t help but smile back.
“Now here’s for the fun part,” he said. “Open that second door, the relaxing one.”
India did so, and felt that tranquil energy wash over her all over again, so penetrating that she actually let out a sigh of relief. “That’s better.”
“Focus on a tiny portion of color somewhere,” Luis said. “Any which color, or even a mix of them, just a small spot in the room.”
“Okay,” said India, her eyes locking onto a mix of pale pink and yellow.
“These are memories,” Luis said. “Memories the room holds onto of stuff that’s gone down inside.”
“Wow.”
“If you concentrate all your attention on one spot, soon it will unfold for you.”
“No way,” India said, not moving her eyes. “You serious?”
He made a clicking sound of annoyance with his tongue. “You think I come all the way over here to make up things? You know where I was before this? Some tiny island in the Pacific called Malakula, where a young fisherman was having a major meltdown slash breakthrough. Don’t worry, it’s all ancestral, parentage stuff, you’ll go through it eventually yourself. The night has to get dark before the day gets bright, as they say.”
India didn’t quite know how to respond.
Luis huffed. “Now focus on your spot and listen. Keep your eyes open. Don’t blink, if you can manage it.”
“Okay.” India did as he asked, and soon her heart skipped a beat. “Did you hear that?”
“No, it must have been a memory. What was it?”
“A child laughing,” India said, feeling seriously strange. “For some reason I know it was a little boy.” But the laugh had an echo around it, giving it an eerie edge.
“Listen again.”
It took India a moment to regather herself and focus properly, but when she did, the laughing came again. After a split second of being frightened again, India managed to relax. Happy childish chattering came afterward, and soon the eerie echo died away, leaving only chirpy giggles that made India break out into a smile. A kind mother’s voice spoke in the background, but India couldn’t quite make out the words.
Then, a distant sound, that definitely came from downstairs within the house, made her jump. She gasped, looking at Luis. He looked composed enough, and grabbed her by the wrist. She expected everything would go black, and in a second or two, they’d be back in the clump of trees near Xavier’s house. Or freezing their backsides off in an igloo, or burning up in the heat of the desert. At least, they would have disappeared from Jim Quinn’s home, leaving no trace, wherever they happened to go.
But nothing happened, and India distinctly heard the sound of boots echoing up from the hall. Even Luis’ eyes were panicked as he grabbed her wrist again, and made a jerking action that didn’t do anything.
India felt her heartbeat thumping in her temples. “Luis, Luis, come on!” she whispered.
Luis squeezed his eyes shut in desperation, then muttered a long string of words. Then, yes! It all went black, and within a couple of moments they found themselves sitting on grassy ground. Looking up and around, India realized they were indeed back at the tree cluster. The sky had darkened to black, and the paved streets were washed with the glow of orange street lights.
“Gotta go,” Luis said, looking pale, then vanished.
India felt inexplicably weary, like she’d just run a marathon, or gone on a long hike. She got to her feet, feeling fragile, then hobbled in the direction of Xavier’s home. All her muscles ached, and she looked down at her feet, trying to get a more stable footing. Her brain felt fuzzy, and her vision wasn’t quite as sharp as normal.
“India!”
India started, then looked up to see Xavier standing on the street, staring at her as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Hi,” she said weakly.
He rushed to her, and squeezed her in a hug. She sank into him, but then almost lost her balance when he pulled away and stared at her. “Where the heck have you been?”
India struggled for words. She knew that if she told him anything about magic, there would be dire consequences. “I… I… I took a walk.”
Xavier exploded. “You took a goddamn walk? India, you’ve been out for over four hours! I called you a thousand times and you didn’t pick up your phone. Not even once to say you’re okay. What the heck is wrong with you? Didn’t you realize how much you scared me? I’ve been driving all over town, looking for you, asking if anyone’s seen you. There’s a murderer out there, and you just go off for all those hours, and not tell me?”
India felt her heart sink. Luis’ teleportation was usually instant. “I’m so sorry, Zave. I’m so sorry.”
His face did not soften a bit. “Where in the hell were you, India?”
In that moment, she wanted more than anything in the world to be able to tell him about magic, about Luis, about all the secrets she kept inside that threatened to burst out of her. But she knew her gift could help people. It could help bring people to justice. “I… I can’t tell you.”
“What?” He said it so quietly, and that was far worse than him yelling. She felt her heart break at the betrayal in his voice. “India, what’s going on? What are you not telling me?” Then his eyes flooded with panic. “You’re not in danger, are you? Who was that phone call from?”
Suddenly, India couldn’t take any more. She burst into angry tears. “Look, I want to tell you, but I can’t. I just can’t, okay? Please, just don’t ask anymore. Please.”
“Argh!” Xavier grunted. “You’re killing me, India.”
They stood staring at each other for one long moment, the intensity between them flashing a million different colors before India’s newly-seeing eyes.
Nadine and Valerie ran out of the house. “What’s going on?” Valerie said.
Nadine’s mouth dropped open. “India! You’re okay! You are okay, right?”
India allowed herself to get covered by Nadine’s hug. “I think so,” she said, and realized she was trembling. She looked over at Xavier, and read hurt and betrayal and loneliness in his big brown eyes. She wasn’t okay. She wasn’t okay at all.
CHAPTER 7
The next morning, India awoke feeling refreshed. Nadine and Valerie had treated her like she was truly part of the family, putting her to bed with warm milk and a cookie. Mark had even hauled an old TV set and DVD player in from the attic and they’d left her with some classic comfort movies like Miss Congeniality and Legally Blonde. None of them had berated her about where she’d been, all saying how glad they were she was okay. When Valerie had left, closing the door ever so gently behind her, India had burst into tears. Partly because they had been so kind when they could have been mad, and partly because of the gulf that seemed to be widening between her and Xavier.
She pushed the sheet off and went to the window to draw the pale green curtains. The window was cracked open, and she took a deep breath of fresh air. Today w
ill be a better day, she told herself. Somehow she’d make Xavier understand without letting the forbidden pass her lips.
After taking a quick shower in the ensuite, she decided to conjure a dress that would make her feel happy and positive all day. Closing her eyes, she aligned with the energy, and thought of all her best moments with Xavier, of her laughing with Amy, of the waves lapping up on the sun-drenched shore in Florida. When she opened her eyes, she found a bright turquoise and golden yellow sundress, covered in intricate gold patterns and swirls. It reminded her of an adult coloring book Amy had, with all its minute detail. She smiled and slipped it over her head.
When she opened the door to go downstairs, the sweet doughy smell so common in the Bradfords’ house was already wafting through the place. She expected to find the Bradford ladies and Demetria hard at work in the kitchen, but Xavier sat at the table alone. He had a jam filled donut in one hand, a coffee in the other, and he used his elbows to hold a book open.
India giggled at the doorway and he looked up at her. For a moment her chest sank, fearing he wouldn’t smile back, but he did, and it was warm and welcoming.
“Morning, In,” he said, putting his book to the side and pushing his chair back. “You want coffee and donuts?”
“You bet. Don’t get up.” She went over to the counter and served herself. “Where is everyone?”
“Dad’s gone to work. Everyone else went to talk to a lady whose son is having a bar mitzvah. Planning what they’re going to make and stuff.”
“Oh right.” India sat down at the table and took a bite of the donut. She really wanted to get back to the case, but just had to be sure they were on good terms, that he wasn’t just holding his emotions in to keep the peace. “About last night…”
Xavier gave her a blank look. “Yes…?”
“You know, what happened…”
“Sorry, In, I’m not following.”
“Huh?”
“Which part of last night?”
It was India’s turn to give him a blank look. Was he really in so much denial?
